That Which We Call Life
by StrawberrySwirl
Summary: Sara tries to deal with that which haunts her. (implied GSR)


She stood outside the door, hesitant, wondering why she had to put herself through this again. She had tried to let it go, but it still plagued her. He had told her that she needed more control...over her emotions, over her actions, over her life. She had thought him cold when he had said the words to her, but gradually, over the weeks and months, she had begun to realize that he was right. She needed to free herself of the chains that she had shackled herself with. She had decided to let go, not wrap herself in emotions and hopes, and finally take control.

She raised her hand and knocked. She could tell herself anything in her mind, but she was always led by something deeper.

There was no answer. She didn't expect anyone to answer her knock. Sometimes there would be an answer, but she knew there wouldn't be today. The man that usually answered the door was gone. She thought of this and smiled wryly. He had always deluded himself, pretending that he had a normal home life; pretending that every evening he and his wife, the love of his life, would share dinner and discuss their day and the world. It broke her heart to think of it.

She slowly opened the door and entered, taking in the all too familiar surroundings. How often had she been here in the past year? Too many times to count. She had sat for hours in that chair talking, promising that things would get better soon. She knew in her heart that it was a lie, but she kept up the charade, just in case.

She walked over, and in a familiar routine, collected two Kleenex from the box on the side table, and took her position in the chair. The room seemed quiet, too quiet. It was almost eerie, like something was about to happen. It's been like this before, nothing ever happens.

Sometimes, when he was here, he would talk about life, daily trivialities. This made her heart heavy, as she knew that even the trivial and mundane things, were no longer trivial and mundane. He would try to pretend otherwise, but even she could see the sadness behind his eyes. Even two days ago, as he was leaving for his trip to a conference in New York, he had leaned over the figure on the bed, and softly kissed her, as if he was afraid to wake her. He whispered that he was going away, that he would be back in 5 days, that he would miss her, that he loved her, that he would see her when he returned. She smiled sadly at the memory, and at how he tried so hard to be normal.

She began talking, about anything. Strings of words were coming out, but they made little sense. No matter, since she knew she was only talking to herself. She talked about the day, about the weather, the news, television. She only began crying when she began to run out of small talk, because it made her think of deeper issues. More specifically, it made her think of the one main issue that had brought her here today. She sobbed as she leaned over to the bed, and took the warm hand in her own,

"Pamela...I am so sorry. We have done everything that the justice system will allow. I'm sorry that we failed you."

She sat holding Pamela's hand and sobbing; freeing the guilt she had been holding for the past year. Three hundred and sixty-five days had passed since Pamela Adler had been attacked, and tomorrow time would run out. Pamela would be forever locked in her own body, and her attacker would be free in less than 36 months.

Slowly her sobs subsided, and silence enveloped the room once more. Her emotions had exhausted her, and she sat there looking at Pamela. She felt tired, emotionally and physically. Finally, she gave the hand a squeeze and laid it back on the bed. Another familiar routine: clean up the Kleenex, push the chair back, say goodbye and quietly slip out the door; four floor elevator ride, walk out through the reception area and down to the bus stop at the next corner. She never could drive after leaving Pamela, she was never in the right state of mind.

As she walked through the reception area, she nodded to the nurse working at the station. The nurses had come to recognize her now, and smiled and chatted to her on the good days. Today it was just a nod, and sad knowing eyes.

She slowly walked down the sidewalk to her bus stop, but soon stopped and stared at the familiar vehicle parked near the hospital, with the familiar figure leaning up against it. She looked at him,

"How..."

He reached out and pulled her into his embrace,

"Come on, let me take you home".


End file.
